One-shot continued! [Postmovie 2007] Maggie is enjoying her tea, and Jazz is asking questions... [Jazz x Maggie]
Disclaimer: All characters belong to their copyright owners; no money gained, only fun.
A/N: This is the second - and currently the last - part of what I've come up with during my long absence. A little about this chapter. I think it's important for the entire story, for more than one reason. It reveals more about Jazz, and it makes Maggie realize some things she didn't even expect to...
Flamingmarsh, thank you for your beta-help :)
I'm really not good with cars, and just in case you see any lack of correspondence of Jazz's physical characteristics to those he had in the 2007 movie throughout this fic - let's just explain it this way: after being reactivated by Ratchet he'd undergone a procedure of inventive tuning, so anything's possible in this universe. I know, it's a lame excuse, but I'm much better at romance than at technology :D With that said, on to reading!
This story has an illustration/comic "Wax On Wax Off":http://tk-productionz.deviantart.com/art/Wax-On-Wax-Off-79676704 by my friend "TK-Productionz":http://www.fanfiction.net/u/979459/TK-Productionz (aka Victoria). Thank you so much, Victoria, I was so happy to get such a fantastic gift! :) Also, if you would like to get a visual impression of this pairing, you definitely should watch this beautiful "Jazz/Maggie Tribute":http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mh1alv9uMvE&feature=channel_page created by Danisa-chan. I am really proud of the fact that it was inspired by "Morning Tea" :)
"Morning Tea" -Chapter 5
"It's almost midnight; we're in a forest; no lights or people around... should I be worried, Jazz?" Maggie joked with a laugh, eyeing the surroundings flowing outside the car.
"Aw, baby, ya know me better'n that," Jazz laughed along with her, stopping at the clearing that presented a hill, similar to the lookout Bumblebee liked to take his two humans to.
Maggie left the car, and Jazz started shifting his form. The girl decided right then and there that she'd never get tired of watching the Autobots transform. In a couple of seconds, the saboteur was standing beside her on his two powerful legs.
"So... the mission objective is...?" Maggie asked curiously, looking at his glowing visor.
Jazz only smiled and wordlessly lifted his face up. Maggie followed his gaze - and gave an astonished gasp of awe.
It was a clear cloudless night. Meaning that myriads of stars were spilt across the inky abyss of the sky. The tiny spots seemed to wink down at them, shining like little space diamonds, and looked so close that for a moment one could have believed it was possible to reach out and touch them, if not for their unearthly beauty that made them unreachable, untouchable...
"Wow, if I knew ya'd like this so much, I woulda brought ya here a long time ago," Jazz softly smiled, and Maggie realized he had been studying her reaction. Feeling a little embarrassed, the girl smiled in answer and sat down on the grass to watch the stars for a little while.
"Actually, it hasn't been long since I moved to the house where I live now," she explained."I used to live in the city before that. And when you live in a big city and work in an office day in, day out- you don't think about the sky above your head. The busy rhythm of life engulfs you, and the artificial illumination obscures the view... It's easy to forget how beautiful the stars are."
"Yeah, they're beautiful," Jazz intoned with a similar smile. The genuine admiration was obvious in his tone. He lowered himself to the ground beside Maggie carefully and stared up.
"You do this often?" the girl asked softly.
"Ya mean stargazin'?"
"Why?" Maggie asked in surprise, turning her head to him. "You seem to like it."
He shrugged slightly. "Reminds me of home, I guess."
Okay, now she felt stupid. And she wanted to kick herself in the head if it were possible. She could've guessed what those sparks of silver in the bottomless blackness of sky meant to such a creature like Jazz.
Stars, and planets.
And one of them was Cybertron, or what was left of it - an inhospitable lifeless pile of metal floating in the depths of space...
"I'm sorry," she whispered, watching him closely.
"Don't be," he shook his head slightly, still looking up. "They're beautiful. With a good company that's all that matters." He smiled contentedly, soothing Maggie's doubts, and laid back on the ground. The girl followed his example after aminute of contemplation, having placed her cell phone between them.
The two sank into their thoughts, just lying there, on the soft grass, listening to the wind sighing in the trees and to the whispering night songs of cicadas. It could have been chilly on the ground, but Jazz's body emanated warmth, so Maggie didn't have to worry about it. Suddenly the girl was glad that she was wearing jeans, old blouse and sneakers - she'd look quite ridiculously in a mini-skirt and high heels right now. In fact, her current outfit was giving her a strange feeling of relaxed coziness. All daily problems were gone, giving way to inner peace. The sky was so high and deep, and the stars so small and sharp - a clear picture of a surreal entity. She could see the constellations as if they were painted on a giant black canvas. A perfect visual illusion of order amidst the endless chaos...
"What's it like?" She murmured barely above whisper after what seemed like an eternity. It was foolish, but at that moment it seemed to her that if she spoke too loud she would scare those stars away.
"What?" He purred in reply.
"Space... I always wondered... But you gotta be some kind of a super human to get a space visa nowadays," she chuckled sadly.
Jazz moved his head a little, and his visor changed color several times. "Th' web says some special trainin's required for the cosmonauts."
"Yeah. For us humans it's not exactly a road trip. Space is a highly hostile environment, so you could say the cosmonauts are practically /bred/, healthy, physically trained and able to operate shuttles and orbital stations. And even then, aperson might spend their entire life preparing for a space flight, and never get to actually do it, because they're only an indemnifying stand-in, and their services are not required."
"Well, not a big loss for them really, 'cause it's cold," Jazz said with a little shrug, and his voice colored with a smile. "An' boring."
"Oh really?"Maggie smirked as well.
"Well yeah! Jus'imagine thousands of light years of absolute silence. No noise, no music. Nuthin'!" Jazz threw one hand into the air in a small gesture of annoyance."Enough ta drive a mech crazy!"
Maggie couldn't hold back a soft laugh. "Oh my, I should have known you'd say something like that."
"Why?" he grinned. "Am I that predictable?"
"In some aspects- definitely," she stated in a smug voice.
"Dang it, I need ta work on ma' image," Jazz laughed in response.
He turned his large head to her, dimming his visor a little so as not to blind her. His huge grin softened to that same warm smile he'd shown Maggie a week ago, when he'd first come to her with his strange request. It was only then that she noticed just how close they were lying; she'd never been this close to any of the Autobots; to Jazz... Their position on the ground had erased the height difference between them. They were face to face. And they were studying each other.
Maggie felt the silence start to change; charge and thicken. She cleared her throat nervously."...Jazz?" She said, remembering what had been on her mind for some time.
"Hmm?" A low thunder-like rumble of his voice vibrated on her skin.
"I never had achance to tell you... What you did in Mission City..."
"I acted on instinct,"he said in an 'it's nothing, drop it' intonation, turning his face up to the sky again. The invisible connection was broken with the loss of eye contact, like a spell dissolving.
Her eyebrow rose. "Sentient robots have instincts?" This question slipped out before she could hold it back.
"Yeah, sorta. More like, we develop a semi-autonomous way of thinkin' that's partially defined by our initial programmin'."
"Oh. Um..." The girl's inquisitive mind registered and filed away the new information, and jumped back to the previous thought. "What I wanted to say is that... it was brave, really brave."
"Well, I hadn't been countin' on Mega-tard ta rip me to pieces, so that kinda excludes the bravery-factor," he chuckled, turning the sensitive topic into a joke. He obviously was uncomfortable with taking praise, and it surprised Maggie, considering Jazz's charismatic, self-assured personality. But that didn't deter the girl from asking the question that was on her mind.
"Well... If you knew it would end up like that... would you have changed your actions in any way?"
That question seemed to have surprised the Autobot, because he gave her a strange look. "Ya really wanna know?"
Maggie nodded mutely.
"...It was a strategic hole of sorts," he said after a pause, his gaze returning to the stars. "There was nuthin' else that could be done at that moment. So, nah, I wouldn't."
Only having heard those words, she realized she'd been expecting to hear them. Not because of some 'standards' of courage she had (you never know how you would act in this or that situation until you end up dealing with it in real life), but because she sensed that he really would do that again if he had to.
"It must have hurt like hell," she said quietly, musing aloud.
Jazz let out ashort low laugh. "I don't think I had time ta notice, Mag."
The cheerfulness of his tone was engulfed by the dead silence that followed. Maggie didn't react to that statement, because she knew it was a lie. She knew for a fact that Ratchet had studied the contents of the Autobot equivalent of a 'black box'embodied in Jazz's central processor. While the silver mech had still been deactivated, the medic, on Maggie's hesitant request, had told her the details of the saboteur's death. She'd been terrified to learn that the oblivion hadn't come to Jazz right away; his systems had kept running for several long seconds, shutting down one by one, sending alarms into his overloaded CPU, until it had finally short-circuited for good and ceased to function... Maybe he hadn't had time for much thought before he jumped in front of Megatron, but God only knows what he'd had to go through during those several seconds... So she just waited, reading the barely visible tenseness in his posture.
"Anyways, better me than one o' the guys," he murmured in a casual voice after another pause, staring somewhere up into the inky-silver sky.
"Why?" She sat up, confused, and looked down into his inscrutable face as if it could help her get a glance into his soul and come to a better understanding.
"They're too important for our mission ta get terminated in battle if it can be avoided,"came his tranquil and measured reply, as if he was stating an obvious thing.
She stared at him dumbfounded. This was definitely some kind of crazy, twisted warrior's reasoning, and - what was the most exasperating about it - being a civilian, Maggie could neither agree with it, nor object it. She didn't know what his usual daily activities were, and she couldn't coldly estimate his actual value or importance to the team from the military point of view. But something inside of her demanded that she reassured him that he did have a reason to come back from a battle; that he did have someone who cared about him. She ached to respond with, 'You are important to /me/,' but wouldn't those be too big words, or too rushed? She could already hear his natural question in her head,'Why?' And to that, she didn't have an answer. So she opened her mouth, and closed it again, unable to follow her own logic.
The heavy silence was torn by the ringing of Maggie's cell-phone that lay on the ground between them. The girl welcomed such a well-timed distraction, but as soon as she read the name that appeared on the small display her heart sank. 'Andrew,'it said; the Andrew from work who'd been bugging her with calls for some time now.
She let out aweary groan under her breath, her slim palm coming up to her face to rub at her forehead uncomfortably. She didn't want to pick up that one; she /so/didn't need this at that moment...
She felt Jazz's curious gaze on her and glanced up into his visor. The 'bot had sat up as well and was now studying the phone.
"'Andrew'?" he asked.
Again, Maggie opened and closed her mouth. The phone kept ringing; the two of them were staring at each other. What she couldn't understand was why on Earth she felt like she'd done something wrong and like she needed to explain herself. It was ridiculous...
"Well, he's anice guy, polite and all, but- he isn't really my type," she said in an embarrassed mumble. "I told him that many times, but he just refuses to take a'no' for an answer." Maggie fell quiet again and glared at the phone, wishing for it to just stop ringing. Maybe if she didn't answer the call long enough Andrew would give up? Though, usually it took more than that to discourage him for a little while if at all. The guy was spotlessly polite and incredibly thick-skulled. An awful combination that bordered on snobbism, but wasn't enough to have a real reason to say that he was a jerk.
Jazz watched her for a couple of seconds, the joyful ringing of the phone seeming an out-of-place sound in the peaceful night around them. Maggie lifted her gaze and tried to decipher his facial expression. What was he thinking? Was he offended somehow? Or angry? Boy, could he be unreadable.
"Ya want 'em off yer case?" he finally asked. He sounded calm, and for some reason it made Maggie relax a little.
"Uh... Frankly, even though I doubt I'll get so lucky in the nearest future... yeah, I really wish he'd stop calling..." she confessed, now staring at the device with amiserable expression on her face.
"'kay," Jazz said simply with a small smile. That very moment the cell-phone stopped ringing. But the reason was not the caller having given up - no, the phone had miraculously received the call and switched to the speaker phone. Maggie gaped at it in shock listening to the soft noises of the open line. She didn't know what to say or do now that Andrew was obviously waiting for her to acknowledge her readiness to speak with him.
But Jazz beat her to it.
"Yeah?" He drawled lazily in a deep voice, taking the initiative. Maggie's eyes shot up to the saboteur; the girl lifted a brow in amusement as it dawned on her that it had been him who had picked up the phone. Remotely, no less. She hadn't expected Jazz to do something like that. It was getting interesting.
There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line. Then a confused male voice, quite familiar to Maggie, spoke politely, "Uh... Good evening. Can I- Can I speak to Maggie, please?"
"An' who're you?" Jazz replied none too pleasantly. By the way he sounded one could imagine him frowning - Maggie couldn't be sure though, because of the visor that was covering the entire upper half of Jazz's face. She crossed her arms over her chest with a crooked smile, curious about where all this was headed.
"Um... my name is Andrew. I'm Maggie's co-worker," the man introduced himself somewhat carefully.
"Oh, hey Andrew," Jazz greeted him with a 'whatever' air to his tone. "Mag's in the shower. Ya want me ta take a message?"
Maggie barely managed to suppress a laugh before it could escape her. She hid the smirk in her fist.
"Er..." Andrew started hesitantly, but before he could form any kind of response he was interrupted by a cheerful female voice that called rather loudly from somewhere inside of Jazz and that Maggie, to her absolute shock, recognized as her own: "Hey Kitty, come to momma! I've got something yummy for you, sweetheart! I know you love it!" Immediately, the first sensual chords of some slow R'n'B song started pouring out of Jazz's speakers.
Maggie's jaw dropped.
"Yeah, pumpkin, I'm comin', just a sec!" Jazz called out in reply to her recorded voice, flashing the stunned girl a rakish grin. Absorbed in his "role," he then addressed Andrew again, "Ya'd better be quick, man, don' wanna make ma' lady wait."
Maggie put her hand over her mouth in a desperate attempt to hold back a fit of mad giggles that threatened to spoil everything.
"Uh... Well..."Andrew stuttered. "N- no, thanks, I... Good night."
"Same to ya, dude," Jazz had time to respond before the line went dead. The Autobot looked at the girl, and pointed to the cell-phone on the ground between them. "I'm ready ta bet ma' stereo that this guy won't bother ya again," he announced with a tone of finality.
They both burst into laughter. Maggie hadn't laughed like that in a long time. She couldn't believe how perfectly casual and natural Jazz's conversation with Andrew had been. Not to mention how inventive the Autobot could obviously be when he set his mind on something. "Jazz, you're such a- such a-" she wiped the tears of mirth from the corners of her eyes.
"A saboteur?"the silver 'bot prompted with a huge grin on his face. "Yeah, that's what I dig- improvisation." One side of his visor changed its color from blue to black for a second, the flash creating an illusion of a wink.
"And, damn, you're good," she giggled again, and then looked up at him skeptically. "But-for God's sake, '/pumpkin/?'" She replayed the scene in her mind.'Pumpkin,' along with 'kitty' and 'momma,' had to be the weirdest mix of endearments ever.
Jazz shrugged, his broad metallic shoulders rolling with a gentle whirr, an impish smile gracing his lips. "It kinda slipped out."
She shook her head with a matching smile. "If my co-workers find out about that, I'm never gonna hear the end of it."
The Autobot chuckled in pretended empathy, and then inclined his head to the side, studying her. "...Maggie?"
Several seconds passed; he was silent. Then something in his pose - or maybe in his face -changed; for a moment, the impenetrable façade gave a slight crack, revealing a glimpse of Jazz Maggie had never seen before - vulnerable and uncertain. The smile on the girl's face froze forgotten. She sensed that his next words would be important, and tensed mentally.
"Juz so ya know... I can take a 'no' for an answer," the mech said in a soft quiet voice, his visor-covered optics never leaving Maggie.
She stood there, unmoving and looking up at him. It suddenly became clear to her that as much as he looked confident, and pushy, and ram-like, he could perfectly see how strikingly different the two of them were, just as she did. He too had doubts; he too was unsure.
Maggie wasn't used to seeing Jazz like this. She was used to think of him as of a 'macho'type, albeit a nice one. She was used to seeing him like a carefree, ironic mech who loved risk, laughed at danger and defied death itself. "No fear, no regrets" - that motto seemed to characterize Jazz's strong personality to the fullest. And now - this. She didn't know how to deal with /this/...
For a moment she thought she'd gone crazy, because how else do you call an overwhelming feeling in your chest when you want to hold someone close and give them a part of your warmth until you make it better? She felt like she had discovered yet another side of Jazz, because this - him showing her his insecurity - was something far more intimate and trusting than any physical contact could be.
Maggie gave him a gentle smile, trying to lighten up the mood. "You mean, I won't need, say, to talk Ironhide into pulling the same trick as you just did, giving you a call and pretending I'm in the wash-racks with him giving him a back-rub, or something?" She joked.
"Nah," a playful smirk appeared on Jazz's face. "I wouldn't believe it anyway. He wouldn't be able ta pull a good act for the life of 'em."
"You think so?Well, a couple of loud grunts on his part would do to create the needed impression," she mused. "He's good at grunting."
"Whoa, girl, is there somethin' I should know 'bout you an' 'Hide?" Jazz's deep laughter was so contagious that Maggie could do nothing but join him, feeling the invisible spring inside uncoiling slowly. "Speakin' of wash-racks," the Autobot continued. "I haven't had a good wash in a while. Mind givin' me one?" His sly tone suggested that if he'd had eyebrows he'd have been waggling them right now.
For the second time that evening, Maggie folded her arms over her chest skeptically, trying to look mildly annoyed. "You do realize that, normally, I wouldn't have agreed, right?" She asked, squinting a little, but knowing that the playful glint in her eyes betrayed her.
"Does that mean yer agreein' now?" Jazz purred. "I mean, ya do owe me for savin' ya from... the unneeded attention of unwelcome admirers," he grinned.
Maggie let out alaugh. "Yeah, I really appreciate that, Jazz. And as a thank-you, alright, I'll give you a wash on Sunday," she confirmed in an almost official tone, as if giving a solemn promise.
"A Sunday wash,"Jazz repeated in half-question, inclining his head forward slightly.
"Yup," Maggie nodded.
"A niiiice, /loooong/Sunday hand-wash, huh?" he drawled, corners of his lips starting to curve up.
"...Now, /that/sounded perverse and just plain wrong, Jazz," Maggie glared at him.
"What? I'm juz makin' sure ya ain't gonna spray me with a hose for like, ten seconds, an' then leave me there all miserable an' wet. Is that a crime?" Jazz gave a farewell glance to the sky and folded into his car-form, an opened driver's door inviting Maggie inside.
"You have an issue about hoses?" The girl asked taking the so nicely offered seat and making herself comfortable. The seatbelt snaked around her and tightened its hold gently for a second before settling in the lock. The Pontiac's engine purred as the car drove off in the direction of her house.
"Well yeah! It's ticklish and not nice at all."
"Okay, no hoses then."
"Ahh, I'm countin' seconds," the saboteur breathed in anticipation.
"Jazz, you're a pervert, you know that?"
"Why, thanks for the compliment, baby," he laughed.
"I hope I won't regret this," the girl mumbled to herself, unable to hold back an amused smile of her own.
"Aw, ya'll like it."
"I've heard that one before. Does that mean 'I don't know' in Maggie-speak?"
"Okay, girl, it's a challenge then. We'll see who's right on Sunday."
"Jaaaaz..." she drawled with a weary smile and a disbelieving shake of her head.
"Whaaaat?" he drawled back, a mock resentment in his voice.
And just like that, they entertained each other with an easy playful conversation on their way back to Maggie's home.
Somewhere along the way, doped with the emotional events of the day, the pleasurable tiredness and the soothing sounds of slow music of Jazz's choice, the girl surrendered to sleep and took a short nap, all the while acknowledging the comforting hold of a seatbelt around her frame with some part of her mind that stayed aware of the world around her. When the Pontiac came to a gentle stop and its engine switched to a contented rumble, she guessed they reached her house, and opened her eyes.
Yep, here they were, on her lawn illuminated by the soft yellow light of several short street lamps.
Maggie sighed, enjoying the way the air filled her lungs.
"Thanks for the nice evening, Jazz. I really enjoyed the ride, and the movie, and the stars, and the talk," she said with a smile, running a thumb over the steering wheel lightly.
"Th' pleasure's all mine, girl," the Pontiac purred in answer, his tone pleased, and gentle, and sort of like the one people usually use when they are giving someone a big warm hug.
"Um... okay, see you tomorrow then," Maggie said, and Jazz obediently undid his belt and opened the driver's door so that she could leave. The girl allowed herself a quick stretch and stepped out of the car, heading to the front door.
"Aw, no good-night kiss?" Jazz asked suddenly, and Maggie turned around in surprise, noting that he still maintained his vehicle-form. She was sure, if a car could pout, the Pontiac was definitely doing exactly that. How cute.
"Depends..." She was in an extremely good mood for some reason, and she felt like teasing him alittle.
"...on what?" came a careful question.
"On whether it was a date." She folded her arms over her chest.
A pause followed. The car was perfectly still. Then, "...D'you want it ta have been adate?"
"...I don't know."She gave a one-shouldered shrug.
"...So what if it was a date?"
"Too bad then."
"Because I don't kiss on a first date."
Her words were met with heavy silence.
With an eyebrow raised, she watched the Pontiac that was sitting on her lawn. One of the headlights dimmed, and then lit up again, while the other one faded out, the action repeating itself slowly a couple of times. If she was asked, she'd say Jazz was engaged in an intense thinking process. This almost made her giggle. So the silver 'bot couldn't decide what he wanted more - this evening to have been adate, or a friendly good-night kiss. Now this was truly endearing and amusing, like watching a kid who couldn't make up his mind in a toy store.
The girl was about to roll her eyes, bid the Autobot good night, and retreat to the house, without any kisses, but...
...why the hell not? the naughty part of her thought. She'd never kissed a Cybertronian before. Wasn't there a first time for everything? Besides, it would be funny as hell to pull at Jazz's strings...
"Okay, fine,"she shrugged nonchalantly, coming back over to the saboteur swiftly and putting both palms flat on his hood. With a feral grin she leaned down and planted asound, generous kiss in the middle of it. Her lips lingered on the warm metal for a moment, and she had to hold back a giggle when Jazz's engine stuttered, the sound of its uneven rumble vibrating through the smooth hard surface under her palms.
Breaking the contact, Maggie chuckled smugly and took a couple of steps back. The Autobot immediately started to transform, causing Maggie to wonder why he would want to do that, until he stilled himself again, now in his bipedal form, sitting down on the grass with a strange expression on his visored face.
Maggie watched him curiously. The saboteur stared at her for a moment, and then dropped his gaze down to the-
...mouth-shaped print of Maggie's brown-peach lipstick that by some unknown, tricky and evil providence, after all the part-shifting and transforming, ended up in the center of his silver chest, right over his spark casing.
The girl froze, now staring at it, too, and slowly coming to the realization of how intimate her rush gesture had probably been, and what meaning a simple human kiss could acquire considering the peculiarities of the Cybertronian anatomy... A horrible thought entered Maggie's head that it must have been the equivalent of kissing someone's crotch.
Oh shit, was all she could think, glaring up, her vocal chords paralyzed with shock.
The mood changed drastically. Maggie decided that if there could ever be a perfect moment to die of mortification, it would probably be it. The silence stretched to the point where it was about to become uncomfortable.
"Wow," the Autobot finally rumbled breathlessly, still staring at his chest, his deep voice soft and quiet, but somehow deafeningly loud to Maggie's ears. Jazz's lips stretched into a dreamy smile and he looked back at Maggie intently. "I gotta tell ya, baby, I ain't washin' this off 'til Sunday," he said, slowly tracing the evidence of her kiss on his metallic chest with the tip of one of his fingers. On its way back down to Jazz's side his hand briefly ran over his spark shielding armor and powerful torso in a seemingly innocent, but at the same time extremely provocative manner.
Maggie's eyes widened and her heart kicked in her chest several times hard, before the girl gulped mentally, trying to gain control over her thoughts that had been thrown off-balance by this unexpected sensual display. It wouldn't have been this bad if the memory of Jazz's fingers caressing her face in a similar motion hadn't kept surfacing.
She fumbled with words in her brain, feeling the blush rising to her cheeks and searching for something to say. Something intelligent, that wouldn't make her look like aflustered fool, even though she totally felt like one. "Um... Sure you aren't... Well, good night, Jazz," she said finally, giving the 'bot a weak and nervous smile that felt incredibly fake.
"'Night, Maggie," Jazz smiled in reply, following her every move with his attentive stare, studying her. She couldn't quite interpret his expression, and it was unnerving. God, she really needed to put some distance between them, calm down, and think about it all in a peaceful solitude.
She nodded once absentmindedly, as if confirming that it was time to go, turned around and slowly, as to not show any signs of deathly embarrassment and confusion, went into the house, not risking looking back.
Ignoring Kitty's inquiring stare, Maggie reached her bed on autopilot and flopped down on it fully clothed, still feeling the awkward numbness in her brain, and cursing herself.
She hated feeling stupid.
But she hated feeling out of control even more.
Maggie groaned, draping one arm over her flushed face. How was it possible that she always managed to get herself into absurd situations?
She only found alittle comfort in the fact that the lipstick was of a calm pastel tone, not some crying red color. That way she still had a small hope that not /everyone/at the Autobot base would look at Jazz tomorrow morning and immediately notice where her lips had been this night. But she decided to follow Scarlet O'Harra's example and to just "not think about it today."
Yeah, I'll think about it tomorrow.
Slipping into the world of dreams, Maggie's mind caught up belatedly on the fact that Jazz had actually been recording her voice, and heaven knows what else.
What were the chances of him needing it for scientific purposes? Slim to none.
Jeez, what aperv.
End of Chapter 5
A/N: Omg. Trust me, I was surprised as much as Maggie by Jazz's actions. O.O Thank you for reading. I'm always glad to hear your opinion, criticism, or anything you'd like to say. In fact, your reviews make me probably the happiest fanfiction writer on Earth, no kidding! ^_^ Be safe, and see ya in the next chapter.